We've only been blessed with her for two years
by Tobiko
Summary: Franky's thoughts on meeting Jeff and Geoff for the first time.


There are these things that the foster system have every few months, parties where foster families go out for picnics or rent out a community center and people who want to adopt come and interact with the kids. It's sort of like a show put on for the prospective parents. We were dressed up like dolls and told to be on our best behavior, to do tricks to impress. Someone might want you. This could be your chance to get out.

I had just turned thirteen and stopped paying attention years and years before. Three foster families had gotten together and it was a rare sunny day in Oxford. Twenty plus kids ran around on the grass as the foster parents gathered around a picnic table chattering amongst themselves. Nervous looking couples either stood anxiously on the outskirts or tried to mill about amongst and speak to the kids, who jumped on them like monkeys starved for attention. I was sitting off at a distance from the group, trying to pose my Manikin in the grass. When I had him in a good position I leaned back and made a rectangle with my fingers, taking a mental picture.

"Hey there."

I jumped and spun around, scooping up my Manikin and holding it tight to my chest. A young man with kind blue eyes smiled at me and put his hands up in the universal, "I'm not going to hurt you," gesture. I pursed my lips and eyed him warily. "Easy. You're Franky right?"

My eyes widened and I stammered, "Y-you- how do-…. yeah I'm Franky."

The man beamed and sat down a safe distance away. "We saw you last party. You were crocheting but before we could come talk to you you disappeared with your friend." Dean. "So we asked around and were given a look at your file. And we came here to meet you properly."

"….we…?"

The man blushed and shook his head. "I'm so sorry! I must- I'm going about this all wrong aren't I? I guess I'm nervous. We as in me and my partner." He pointed back at the party and I noticed a flustered older man with glasses being run around by a group of three kids who'd sensed weakness and pounced on it. "I'm Jeff. My partner's name is Geoff. So same name but a different spelling." He babbled and smiled sheepishly.

I stared at him in confusion. Finally I said, "….you're nervous? Why?"

Jeff laughed and said, "I guess I wanted to make a good first impression. But I've bogged up a bit."

"A good first impression?"

Jeff rubbed the back of his head and he looked almost… shy. "Yeah. I mean… came here to meet you and all that…"

Something that he had said before finally clicked into place, the actual _meaning_ of it. _We came here to meet you properly_. Meet _me_? Me, Franky? The little weirdo with a million black marks on her file? I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water. The back of my neck and my ears burned in alarm. I looked down at my Manikin's head, mind whirring. _What do I do?_

_Say something._

"Why me?" The first thing that came to mind tumbles out of my mouth. I clutched my Manikin tighter, so tight my fingertips went white. Stupid question.

Jeff looked startled by what I'd asked. "Why…?" He paused and his already pink-tinted cheeks darkened further. "W-well… when I saw you that day, crocheting, your face was screwed up in such concentration that it seemed as if the entire world was lost to you. You were so content in your project, in yourself. And when that friend came you looked up and your face lit like nothing I'd ever seen before. And your smile made me smile. And… and all I wanted to do was get to know you, ever since that day."

My grip on my Manikin had loosened so much that he half-slipped out of my hands before I re-adjusted. All I could do was stare into Jeff's kind blue eyes, looking for the lies that weren't there. That would never be there. The look on his face made the broken thing in my chest flutter weakly, then more forcefully as if it was trying to revive itself. Like a dunce I looked behind me as if searching for the girl Jeff was actually talking to. Because it couldn't be me. Not Francesca the foster kid.

Jeff's bashful smile wavered doubtfully as he waited for me to respond but my throat had closed up tight. It had decided to make sure I couldn't say something messed or freakish or just _stupid_. But now I looked like a mute, bug-eyed little loser. I looked down at my knees in mortification. How did I mess _everything_ up?

Jeff's soft voice broke through my self-bashing as he said, "It's OK, you don't have to talk. Would you like me to tell you about myself?" I nodded at my knees and he started to speak. Slowly I raised my head as he weaved his story, telling me all about his cooking and his military background and most of all about Geoff, who he spoke of with glowing eyes and a wide grin. They were a couple. They loved each other more than life. But they wanted to be a family.

He smiled warmly at me. "And- and that's where you could come in. If you wanted."

And there it was.

An offer.

"But… you don't even _know_ me. You… you wouldn't…" I trailed off, face burning.

Jeff removed his bag from his shoulder and opened it. From it he withdrew…me. My file. Pieces of art that fell into Social hands. My grades. My history. Pictures of me through the years, my face growing more stony, more removed. Jeff handled everything with such care and he bit his lip. "I…. maybe I don't know you… not _you_ you. But… but I've never wanted anything more." And he flinched because he'd just put himself out there, waiting for my- _my_- approval.

I didn't even know how to start.

The broken thing beat at my ribcage in a frenzy, half confused and half elated and completely trying to get my attention.

I looked back up and he was watching my face attentively. Still waiting. It was like we were both holding our breath, waiting for one of us to surface. And I knew I could outlast him, could hold my breath for the rest of my life. And for a second I believed I would. To my surprise I reached forward and, kicking for the surface, took a piece of art from Jeff's shaking fingers. "…. I remember this one." And I told him about it. His eyes never left my face and they sparkled with joy.

We talked for hours. And Jeff coaxed out the first smile and first laugh I'd ever had with anyone besides Dean in years. Geoff never came over. As if he already was connected to my psyche, he knew not to overwhelm me on that first day. I would have skittered away like a startled rabbit if he'd come over too. As it was Jeff and I gabbed on and on, hours feeling like minutes in his easy company. We talked mostly about art, then about studies and music. The safe stuff. Nothing intrusive. Jeff moved as slowly as I needed, letting me set the pace. That day was one of the happiest days of my life.

The fosters had to come get me, I was so absorbed in Jeff. They looked more than surprised to see me speaking with such animation and for so long with a person. Someone got broody and sullen Franky to talk, besides that bad seed Dean who kept popping up and setting fire to everything (which, ironically was usually me setting the fires but Dean taking the heat. but I took the blame for various other things anyway). And I smiled all the way back to the house.

They took it slow, I only found out that they got the adoption procedures rolling that same day a year later. Jeff said they would have halted it if I'd said no but adoption takes a very long time to finalize and they wanted to adopt me as soon as possible. I got to know Geoff slower than Jeff, but that's because he's quieter. More serious maybe. More like me. But we didn't have to get to know each other in the end, because we had this connection anyway. Geoff is the one who comes to talk to me when I'm upset. Jeff goes and bakes me food and tells funny stories and Geoff listens quietly and sits with me when I wake up after a nightmare. And they're both perfect.

And they chose me. For some inexplainable reason I was the one they chose. They'd seen everything, all the psych evaluations, all the doctors reports, all the everything and they knew how messed I was. They knew and they still picked me. And they treat me like… like I'm some prized jewel. Like I'm not the damaged thing that I am. To them I'm not the girl who gets a gun, the girl who takes drugs to feel better when it's too hard, the girl who becomes too attached to people and will do anything to keep them. To them I'm Franky the builder. Franky the artist. Franky their little girl. _Their_ little girl. As if… they'll love me forever.

And I can't wrap my head around it.


End file.
